


What is and What is Not

by Lianarias



Category: Merlin (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, Established Relationship, Kidnapping, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 08:54:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lianarias/pseuds/Lianarias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's ready for another normal day (or what can be normal when living with Sherlock Holmes) but destiny has another thing in mind. Now he's meeting the Ceo of Camelot Corp. who happens to be married to Sherlock's brother... what?! Merthur slash, maybe future Johnlock</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own either Merlin or Sherlock. If I did, you’d be the first to know. (actually, I lied cuz I don’t know you :P)  
> Warning: Merthur Slash, maybe Johnlock later on.  
> This is my first cross over. Ever. Deal with it. Also, I know the name Sherringford is way over used but I like it :D

Ch. 1

It was a normal day at 221 B Baker Street. John was sitting at the table, in the small space reserved for him where all of Sherlock’s experiments had been shoved to the side, eating breakfast and eyeing the newspaper. Sherlock was by the window, looking out onto the street, hands clasped behind his back.

Then the day strayed from normal, much to John’s surprise. He noticed Sherlock stiffen, his eyes trained on the street below. John glanced over, intrigued by the strange emotion that flashed through Sherlock’s eyes. It almost looked like worry. But Sherlock didn’t have emotions, or at least he liked to think that by always calling himself a “high-functioning Sociopath”.

John jumped in surprise when a knock sounded on their flat door, unlike Sherlock who was already halfway across the room, as if he was expecting the visitor. John jumped to his feet suddenly as Sherlock did something completely un-Sherlock-like. He threw open the door, grabbed the blonde-haired man by his collar and  
slammed him violently against the wall.

“Sherlock!” John chocked out. The man still being held against the wall by Sherlock’s body weight was tall, muscular, blonde haired, his jaw set in a hard line as he glared through narrow eyes at Sherlock. Sherlock on the other hand, completely ignored John, his eyes solely on the blonde.

“What happened to him?!” Sherlock suddenly demanded, much to John’s confusion and the blonde’s slight shock. The blonde seemed to recover, narrowing his eyes at Sherlock once more but not saying a word.

“I’m not playing games Pendragon,” Sherlock spit the last word out as a curse. “You’re here, he is not. You hate me, and the feelings mutual I assure you, so you wouldn’t come here without him, which means he is somehow unavailable right now. That, combined with the complete and utter worry and rage which is so obviously on your face. I know something is up. What. Happened?”

Almost immediately after Sherlock finished his rant, the blonde sagged against the wall and John could now see just what Sherlock had seen in the man earlier. Despair, worry, anger, fear. He looked broken, lost.

“He’s been taken,” The words from the blonde were so twisted in his emotions that it took John a moment to realize exactly what had been said. Apparently it even took Sherlock a second to because all of a sudden he let go of the blonde and took a quick step back, more strange emotions crossing his face before he schooled his features.

John was still utterly confused. But Sherlock simply announced, “John, get your coat. We’re going.” John, springing into motion by Sherlock’s words, did just that, but not without studying Sherlock, who was staring at nothing, the look on his face far away, and the blonde, who had straightened himself and locked his jaw in a grim line once again. Whatever was going on was serious.

Without another word being said, the blonde led both Sherlock and John down to the street where a sleek non-descript black car was waiting for them. Sherlock and John scouted into the back while the blonde sat in the passenger seat which was strangely facing toward the backseat instead of the windshield. A customized car then. Whoever the blonde was, he had money.

“So, um. What exactly is this about?” John decided to break the tense silence once they were underway to who know’s where.

“My Brother,” Sherlock answered shortly. The blonde and he were seemingly having a glaring contest.

“Mycroft?” John asked, confused. Mycroft could definitely take care of himself.

“No, My younger brother,” Sherlock answered, just as seriously. What?

“You have another brother?” John reeled. Another one. Oh god. If Mycroft and his schemes weren’t worse enough.

The blonde finally broke his gaze from Sherlock, glancing sharply at John before turning his accusing glare back to Sherlock.

“You never told him about your own brother?!” The blonde snarled.

“Well it hardly came up,” Sherlock met the blonde’s glare with his own before turning to John. “Yes, my younger brother, and last brother, Sherringford Holmes.” Before John even had time for that to sink in, the blonde cut in.

“Merlin Pendragon,” the blonde snarled. “We did get married three years ago, but maybe you forgot, seeing how you never found the time to show up.”

The pieces suddenly fell into place for John. The blonde was Sherlock’s brother-in-law. Jesus, and apparently they hated each other’s guts. Also, Pendragon, where does that sound familiar? Then the final piece snapped into place as well. 

“You’re Arthur Pendragon.” John surmised. It wasn’t a question, in fact, John wondered why he hadn’t noticed before. The man was on TV all the time. He was the CEO of Camelot Company, which dominated half the city.

The blonde, Arthur, nodded at him in silent agreement, his eyes softening just a little. John didn’t know what to say. This was crazy. So he simply came up with the best he could:

“Oh, Okay.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so see! There is more! I didn’t drop it promise! Ready for lame excuse time? In order to download a computer game I bought, I had to downgrade from Internet Explorer 9 (some people are going to stop reading the moment I say Internet Explorer) to IE 8 because IE9 wouldn’t let me download anything and no solutions online matched my problem. IE8 is like not compatible with ANYTHING. So I couldn’t even log into my account, let alone post anything. I just got Firefox yesterday and now I can post again! :D YAY. (The Computer game was totally Minecraft. Just saying. Haters gonna hate.)
> 
> Warning: Merthur slash, maybe Johnlock later.

Chapter 2

John was still mulling over the information which had just been dropped on him when the car made a swift turn and pulled down a gravel driveway. Arthur Pendragon’s house was nothing like John had been expecting; instead of a huge hulking mansion with perfectly gardened grounds, John was faced with a medium sized, old Victorian style house with wisteria covering long patches of the sand colored walls and a small porch with a wicker loveseat and a hammock. It was quant, homey, and not something you would usually see a billionaire like Arthur Pendragon living in.

Arthur and Sherlock climbed stiffly out after the car pulled in front of the house, forcing John out of his musings and out of the car. John noticed the man who had driven the car, who had seriously curly hair and slight facial hair and stood in the wary, stiff stance of a soldier; follow them up to the house, taking up the rear. Moving his eyes forward once again, John could still see the tension between the two men in front, who, even when discussing the facts of the case in the vehicle earlier, were still gruff and snarly with each other.

John followed Arthur and Sherlock through the front door. From his perspective he could see straight down the hallway to a staircase, into the room to the left, which housed a long ebony table and was most likely the dining room, and into the room on the right, which was notably packed with people but was still obviously a sitting room. John jumped a little when the driver closed the door behind them but followed Arthur to the right anyways.

All eyes in the room were focused on the entering men, all of them except for one man who was snoring softly on the couch with his feet in another man’s lap, and all with a wide range of emotion. John tried not to read particularly into the glares which seemed to be aimed at Sherlock, but also seemed to land on him.

“So… How about introduction?” The driver, attempting to break the ice after a moment of awkward silence and death glares.

“I’m not here for introductions,” Sherlock all but snarled. The glares in the room darkened if that was possible. “Just show me to the crime scene.”  
John pretended like he hadn’t heard Sherlock’s voice crack on the words “crime scene”, still some-what shocked at Sherlock’s show of emotion. Sherlock obviously cared much for his younger brother, no matter what he tried to make everyone believe.

“I’ll show you,” Arthur announced gruffly. The look on his faced showed he didn’t like the word crime scene either. Before John could study the man more in depth, Arthur turned on his heal and motioned for Sherlock to follow him…. Which left John standing awkwardly with a room full of strangers.

He wouldn’t followed Sherlock and done his best like normal to make a contribution to Sherlock’s thought process, but the look Sherlock had given him before leaving made him pause. John knew that look. Sherlock wanted to be alone right now. Wanted to be able to fully concentrate without any distractions.

“I’m Leon,” The driver introduced suddenly, shaking hands with John, who shifted self-consciously when all the eyes turned to study him. “I’m head of security and Arthur’s bodyguard.”

“John Watson,” John introduced himself to everyone.

“That’s Gwaine,” Leon started making introductions, pointing to the man sleeping on the sofa, who was quite good looking with dark hair which pooled around his head and the beginning of a beard. “He’s on security with me along with Percival, his boyfriend.” Leon nodded toward the hulking man who had Gwaine’s feet in his lap. The man was big, and very muscular but he smiled softly as he inclined his head toward John.

“That’s Elyan,” Leon continued, motioning toward the dark skinned man with a youthful face leaning against the wall in a far corner. John received a small nod from the man. “Also in security. Next is—“

“I’m Morgana,” A female voice interrupted. John glanced at the woman sitting cross legged in an armchair and almost did a double take. She was stunning, with dark ebony hair which flowed down her shoulders and pale skin, but the predatory look in her eyes made John feel slightly uneasy. “I’m Arthur’s half-sister.”

“Nice to meet you,” John offered slightly, feeling she was not someone he wanted to have as an enemy.

“No it’s not,” Arthur scoffed, coming back into the room. John searched for Sherlock, but he was not with Arthur and instead must have demanded privacy to do his work.

“So nice of you brother,” Morgana countered dryly, but there was a hint of amusement in her eyes.

“Is there something I’m missing?” John whispered to Leon, feeling a tad bit confused.

“Morgana works in a low level job for the French Government,” Leon whispered back, giving a knowing grin. Oh bloody hell, John’s mind whirled. Another Mycroft. Just what he’d been dreading.

“That and she’s a bloody harpy,” Arthur hopped into the conversation. There was a slight smile on his face but even John, who had known the man for less than an hour, could see that his heart wasn’t really in it.

“Yes well, that too,” Leon snickered and Morgana huffed indignantly, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “Anyhow, that’s Freya,” Leon pointed to another girl, this one was more youthful than Morgana, with a soft smile and her lap being taken up by another man’s head. “—and Will,” Leon motioned to the man in Freya’s lap who was laying, arms crossed, glaring at the ceiling, fuming silently. “They’re –“

“People who would have protect their best friend,” The man named Will snarled, causing the room to wince and glance at Arthur.

“Will—“ Arthur started, his eyes narrow.

The door to the room slammed open and before John could really comprehend, Leon was standing in front of him with a gun drawn. Looking around, John noticed that Percival, Elyan, and surprisingly Gwaine, who was now on his feet with Percival and showed no signs of being previously asleep, also had guns drawn. Arthur himself had only tensed up and seemed to have no weapon of his own but John could see Arthur’s hand unconsciously move to his waist, searching for a weapon which wasn’t there. John wasn’t blind to the way Morgana’s hand subtly went to her hip either.

It was Sherlock at the door. His eyes were blown wide and he was breathing hard, as if about to have a panic attack. Something was wrong.

“It’s him,” Sherlock breathed, his slightly unfocused gaze meeting John’s.

John froze. He didn’t want to believe it. There was only one person Sherlock would call HIM.

“Who’s him? What’s wrong?” Leon questioned, he had since lowered his gun, along with the other men, and was now looking questioningly at Sherlock. Sherlock didn’t even acknowledge Leon, instead he turned his gaze toward Arthur, who seemed to have frozen the same moment as John, as if he knew. There was only one person Sherlock would call HIM. One person who had terrorized both Sherlock and John. One person whom had been previously hoped to be dead after Sherlock “killed” him. One person. Sherlock breathed out one word. A name.

“Moriarty”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DON DON DOOOOOOOOOOON. Cliffhanger. I know. So review please :D and look out for more because I am already working on the next chapter! ~ Lianarias (Lee-ah-nuh-ree-uh)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! I actually posted before Christmas! Like I promised! Seriously. It’s a Christmas miracle.
> 
> This chapter is a tad longer than the ones before (I think) because I was forced to make my planned chapter 3 into two chapters because it was too long. Sorry for the lag in posting!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own either Merlin or Sherlock.
> 
> Warning: Merthur slash, maybe Johnlock later on
> 
> HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

Chapter 3

John barely had time to blink before Arthur was rushing forward, taking Sherlock down with a flying fist. John rushed to Sherlock’s aide immediately, even if he was slightly confused as to what was going on. Sherlock calmly got back to his feet as John positioned himself between Sherlock and Arthur.

Leon and Percival had come forward and were holding tightly on to Arthur, who was struggling in their hold, his face a picture of rage.

“You bastard!” Arthur snarled, still struggling. “it’s all your fault!” John could hear Sherlock’s breath hitch behind him but he ignored it. “it’s your fault he’s after Merlin!”

“I think not,” Sherlock announced stiffly, his voice akin to ice. “Someone hacked your security system. Someone by the name of Nimueh.”

Arthur stopped struggling at this revelation, which was complete nonsense to John, and instead slumped in Percival and Leon’s grip. The rest of the room were all wearing differing variations of scowls. John felt like the only one out of the loop.

“Who is Nimueh, Arthur?” Sherlock demanded. “Moriarty always works alone. Why is this Nimueh helping him?”

“Nimueh Priest,” Arthur sighed wearily. Percival and Leon released him and instead he flopped down in a chair, staring at his hands. “Was a friend of my mother. 

When she died, Nimueh blamed my father and was determined to take her revenge. She hasn’t bothered us since my father died. I thought she’d moved on.”

“A hacker out for revenge then? But is there any reason why she would hold a grudge against Sherringford?” Sherlock started to pace, hands clasped behind his back, but no one missed him pointedly use Merlin’s childhood name. John, realizing he was still awkwardly standing between Sherlock and the rest of the room, retreated, heading back to lean against the wall, ready to offer input if needed.

“Merlin,” Arthur stressed his husband’s name. “Was the hacker my company recruited to out hack Nimueh when she attacked, back when my father was still alive. Merlin basically prevented her from enacting her revenge.”

Sherlock turned to face Arthur, his eyebrows raised incredulously. “You hired Sherringford as a hacker? Why? The boy’s rubbish.”

Arthur snorted at that, the ghost of a smile on his face, however pained. Sherlock simply looked at him sharply, obviously expecting an answer.

“Mate, you need to keep up with the times,” The man name Gwaine accused, his arms crossed with a scowl on his face. “Merls has been a world class hacker for the past four years or so.”

Sherlock scowled, obviously not liking being unknowledgeable about his own brother and John was in his own little world of shock. And really, he reasoned, he shouldn’t be too surprised; All Holmes were extraordinary in some way.

Sherlock began to pace again, mumbling to himself under his breath. Snatches of his utterings could be heard, but none made sense.

“No, no, no… something missing… security system… witnesses… time… security system… security? … BODYGAURDS!” Sherlock finished with a shout, whirling to face Arthur. The room jumped in surprise.

“What?” Arthur asked, his eyebrows pinched in confusion.

“Bodygaurds,” At Arthur and the room’s continuous blank look, Sherlock continued. “Oh come on, you must’ve had bodyguards on Sherringford. Where are they?”

“There were two. One’s dead. The other’s at the hospital.” Leon answered for Arthur. Sherlock’s eyes lit up.

“And? They weren’t Sherringford’s normal bodyguards, were they?” Sherlock demanded with excited fervor.

“No,” Arthur answered, looking surprised that Sherlock knew that piece of information. “His normal bodyguard, Lancelot, is on his honeymoon with his wife Gwen.”

“So who appointed these two bodyguards?” Sherlock demanded.

“Arthur did,” Leon answered.

“Leon did,” Arthur answered.

They looked at each other in shock, along with the rest of the room. Sherlock smirked victoriously.

“They told me you had,” Arthur returned, his jaw set. His head whipped around in realization. “Are you saying the bodyguards were inside men?”

“Exactly! Moriarty used your trust for each other against you in a risky gamble. He played that you two wouldn’t ask confirmation from each other and would instead trust the other’s judgement. He played you.” Sherlock explained, looking far too gleeful.

“But there’s no evidence!” Arthur protested. “This is just a theory!”

Sherlock’s eyebrows rose defiantly before he turned to Leon. “Security tapes. Surely you have those?”

“Of course. Nimueh cut the feed moments before Merlin was taken though.” Leon explained. John noticed Arthur flinch at the word “taken”.

“Show them to me. Knowing Moriarty, he will have left us some clues.” Sherlock demanded. Arthur stood immediately.

“Leon, Gwaine, you’re with me,” He announced, assuming a voice of power. “Follow me,” He directed to Sherlock, before exiting the room. John hesitated, wondering   
if he should follow. Sherlock paused, glanced at John, and jerked his head in the direction of the door, his hands still clasped behind his back. John happily followed.

They were just passing the front door when a series of taps resounded. *Tap Tap* and then a pause, *Tap Tap*. The group froze, the Pendragon men’s hands moving stealthily to their guns. Leon hadn’t been informed of anyone arriving so who could be at the door?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah… Um… Review!... and please don’t kill me…. ~ Lianarias


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fwoooh. Just finished this chapter in time to keep my promise to post before the month is up. I know. It’s 2 hours till February. But I’m a procrastinator. Badly. So. Yeah. This was supposed to be the rest of Chapter 3 but I had to cut said chapter in half cuz I needed to post before Christmas sooooooo.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own either Merlin or Sherlock.
> 
> Warning: Merthur slash, maybe Johnlock later on (although it’ll probably be more implied now that I’m thinking about it…)

_They were just passing the front door when a series of taps resounded. *Tap Tap* and then a pause, *Tap Tap*. The group froze, the Pendragon men’s hands moving stealthily to their guns. Leon hadn’t been informed of anyone arriving so who could be at the door?_

Sherlock simply huffed in annoyance, pushed through the group, and swung the door open before the group could protest.

Mycroft was on the stoop, closed umbrella in hand. He cocked an eyebrow at Sherlock before turning to Arthur, who was mostly hidden by Leon and Gwaine, the two standing in front of him protectively.

“Ah Mr. Pendragon,” Mycroft smiled politically. “Sorry to show up so abruptly. Please excuse my discourtesy.”

“It’s fine Mycroft,” Arthur practically shoved Leon and Gwaine out of formation. “Come on in. Obviously any help is appreciated.” Arthur threw a sharp look at Sherlock. Mycroft and Sherlock then shared a look themselves as he stepped through the threshold; well, Sherlock’s was more of a glare. And John found it interesting that while Arthur appeared to despise Sherlock (and the feeling was apparently mutual), Mycroft and Arthur seemed to know each other and still get along fine.

“We were just about to go over the security video feed from when Merlin was taken,” Leon explained politely, although knowing the Holmes (or well, knowing Mycroft in particular), Mycroft already knew this.

“Well, carry on then,” Mycroft motioned forward with his umbrella. Leon did just that, taking the group through several rooms before stopping at the very inner of the house. The security room was small, only about able to fit two people sitting down to watch the monitors, so Gwaine stayed out in the hall while Arthur, Leon, John, and Sherlock crammed in to get a view of the screens. Mycroft simply looked at the small room distastefully before joining Gwaine in the hall. There was an awkward silence between the two.

“So this is the feed from right before Merlin was taken.” Leon announced, fiddling with some controls till a video appeared on the largest screen. John stared at the video feed where a figure sat in a windowsill in what appeared to be a small library. The figure was definitely Merlin, John could tell even through the grainy video. 

The high cheekbones were a dead giveaway and the mop of dark hair. John didn’t know what he had really been expecting but this younger version of Sherlock was anything but. Perhaps he was expecting someone looking more like Mycroft but no; the man on the screen looked far more alike to Sherlock. Yet Merlin had this youthful innocent look to him that neither Mycroft nor Sherlock had; he lacked the world weary expression of the Holmes.

As John watched, Merlin glanced up from the book he was reading, looking at something off screen. His brows furrowed in confusion as he sat his book down and stood up. A second figure entered the screen, the object of Merlin’s gaze, coming up to talk to Merlin.

“That’s strange,” Leon stared in confusion at the screen. “The video usually cuts off here.”

The figure and Merlin chatted for a few seconds before Merlin smiled at the figure and then traipsed out of the room with a gait akin to the grace of all Holmes. The figure then took a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, and without looking at it, tossed it over his shoulder, off screen. The figure then finally turned toward the camera. His face was definitely familiar.

“Moriarty,” Sherlock growled, causing Arthur and Leon to glance at him in surprise before turning their wide eyes back to the screen. John just paled slightly, staring at the all too familiar face of Sherlock and his archenemy.

Moriarty stared right at the camera and grinned his trademark smirk before spreading his arms wide in invitation. “Your Move.”

-

“So he replaced the film once he was in the clear, huh?” Arthur concluded, his hand swiping over his face in frustration.

“Hmm. Yes. He’s always been too theatrical. He wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to appear on video,” Sherlock conceded. They were in the library now, where the video feed had captured Moriarty. “But the real question is what he wants us to know. This is a game to Moriarty, a game he wants me to play. But I can’t play without clues. He knows he has to give me something to work with, no matter how vague. Something that would get me on his trail. But then…”

Sherlock paused, his fingertips together in thought. He turned suddenly, looking toward the wall not seen by the camera angle, a wall of bookshelves. He studied said wall briefly before whirling around to face the windowsill once again. He mimed throwing something over his shoulder, then tracked his mental object back to the wall.

“What are you doing Sherlock?” questioned John, curious.

“The paper John. Moriarty tossed something over his shoulder. That is the clue,” Sherlock faced the bookcase. “But where did it go?” He felt along the books. He paused, the room’s eyes on him, and slowly, carefully reached behind the books, into the space between books and wood, and pulled out a crushed ball of paper by two forefingers. “Here we go.”

“What is it?” Arthur demanded, suddenly crowding Sherlock’s space. Sherlock took two steps away and glowered at Arthur but John could tell Sherlock was just as interested to find a clue.

“For God’s sake Pendragon. Be patient,” Sherlock snapped, beginning a little glaring contest between Arthur and him.

“Sherlock,” John interrupted. “Can you just read the clue?”

“Indeed,” Injected Mycroft, looking strangely aggravated. “You’re wasting time.”

“Fine then.” Sherlock snapped, with one last glare at Arthur, and then carefully and patiently unfolded the crumpled paper.

“Well? What does it say?” Arthur demanded, wringing his hands together impatiently.

Sherlock took a few seconds of his own time to examine the paper thoroughly; John could tell it was mostly to aggravate Arthur though, before his brow pinched in slight confusion. Without further prompting though, Sherlock opened his mouth and began to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. I know. I’m evil. O.O but I haven’t figured out the next chapter yet so…… 
> 
> I promise to have the next chapter out by the end of February though! Promise!
> 
> Oh and I’ve got another chapter for Sacrilege almost done so keep an eye out. And it’s much longer than the first chapter already *wink*


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter update is dedicated to Emmee because I lied to her and promised this chapter to her months ago. 
> 
> Thanks so much for your patience! 
> 
> Sorry I haven’t updated in so long but my senior year of high school just finished and anyone who’s been through that knows what’s up. The good news is that I got into my first choice college and will be attending there this fall, yay!
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own either Merlin or Sherlock.
> 
> Warning: Merthur slash, maybe Johnlock later on (I dunno about Johnlock now that I’m thinking about it…)

“Time to brush up on my Arthurian tales” Sherlock read. “Signed, M” he flipped the paper over in his hands, contemplating. “And the paper is imprinted with a watermarked phrase: ‘Explore the world’s knowledge’. Which, unless I’m mistaken – and I’m not – is the motto for the British Library in London.”

“Moriarty took Merlin to a LIBRARY?!” Arthur’s voice was both emotionless and incredulous. He crossed his arms and shifted his weight slightly back in angst.

“Of course not!” Sherlock snapped. “Moriarty is just playing a game.” Sherlock smiled weakly down at the paper in his hands. His face lacking the usual exuberance he excludes on a difficult case. “It’s a scavenger hunt.”

“Yes, we will most likely find another clue at the library to involve us in Moriarty’s game,” Mycroft agreed, still hovering by the open doorway. “It is also likely that Merlin is simply the incentive for his game and not necessarily the prize.”

“But if we play his game, we’ll get Merlin back right?” Arthur demanded, holding steadfast to his hope.

“No. –Yes! I don’t know!” Sherlock snarled in frustration, hands clasped behind his back as he paced a span of a few feet. John could tell Sherlock cared for his brother by Sherlock’s unusual frustration with the case. It was unlike him to be anything more that excited or puzzled. “Moriarty doesn’t have the best track record for keeping his word.” Sherlock finished.

“But it is substantially more likely that he will keep Merlin alive, at least until we complete his game. If nothing more than an incentive to keep playing,” Mycroft added.

“So that means we’re wasting valuable time!” Gwaine spoke up from where most of the room had forgotten about him. He was shoulder to shoulder with Leon, who was nodding his approval.

“I agree sir, It would be in our best interest to follow this clue now, while the trail is still the freshest,” Leon added his voice, automatically deferring to Arthur. “There is a possibility Moriarty will inadvertently lead us to Merlin’s location.”

“Of course.” Arthur recovered already starting toward the front of the house, Mycroft moving out of the doorway to make way, Leon and Gwaine instinctively following Arthur. Sherlock didn’t move, staring straight forward, slightly down, fingertips pressed together in thought. John therefore stayed where he was, waiting for Sherlock’s lead. As well as Mycroft it seems as he stood by the doorway, faking fascination with the bookcase, or the books on it.

“Sherlock?” John piped up tentatively, not wanting to intrude on Sherlock’s processing, but reasoning that Sherlock will definitely want to accompany Arthur to the   
library, if only to see what occurs.

“Yes? Right.” Sherlock started, turning and striding after the path Arthur had just taken, therefore jolting John into action as he was forced to take large strides to keep up with Sherlock’s speed. Surprisingly, Mycroft did not follow. But then again, when did Mycroft ever do anything anyone expected him to.

“I’m coming with you!” Someone snarled from the front room as Sherlock and John approached. John recognized him as the bloke who had snarled at Arthur earlier as well, Will.

“No Will you’re not.” Arthur growled, his tone baring no argument. Well, Will seemed oblivious.

“I bloody well am!” Will shouted, moving forward into Arthur’s personal space, squaring off against him in an expression of dominance.

“No. You’re not.” Arthur snarled. Glaring slightly downward at the shorter man.

“Yes I-” Will attempted to start again but Arthur cut him off.

“Jesus Will! You’re not coming and that’s that!” Arthur shouted. “You don’t have the proper skills to defend yourself in this! And you now Merlin would be crushed if he came back to you being dead.” Arthur voice ended in a growl and for once, Will was silent, his mouth slightly open but no words coming out. Everyone else was in silence as well, a little surprised at Arthur’s outburst. John gathered that Arthur hardly ever shouted at his friends if this was their reaction to his outburst.

“Arthur’s right Will,” A soft voice broke the silence. John, for the life of him, couldn’t remember her name. She slipped up to Will’s side and laid a hand on his shoulder in comfort.

“Freya,” Will returned just as softly, meeting her eyes. Ah, Freya was her name, John acknowledged. Will held Freya’s eyes for only a few seconds before he sighed and glanced back at Arthur. “Fine. I’ll stay. Just save Merlin for me Princess.” Will joked.

A week smile flashed across Arthur’s face, dissipating his anger. “You got it,” Arthur promised. Will reluctantly went back and sat down, Freya with him.

“Well that was a colossal waste of time,” Sherlock announced flatly, earning him a sharp look from both Arthur and John for his insensitivity.

“Yeah, Yeah, we’re going.” Arthur grumbled, grabbing his coat from by the door and pulling his on. Sherlock had never shed his, and John was still in his jacket.

“Hey Arthur!” Arthur paused where he’d been about to open the door.

“What now?” Arthur gripped turning to face the speaker, the dark haired beauty who had just stood from her chair. Morgana.

“Be Careful.” Morgana just met Arthur’s eyes solemnly. A quick glance around the room displayed almost identical expressions, concern for Arthur. Arthur’s expression softened slightly.

“Of course…. Harpy,” Arthur gave a final smirk before exiting the house, Leon and Gwaine following like ever present shadows. Sherlock followed wordlessly, not acknowledging the others in the room. John shuffled after him, turning right before he closed the door.

“Farewell.” 

-

Leon drove again, with Arthur, John, and Sherlock in the car, just like on the way over to the house. The conversation in the car was nonexistent. Arthur sat tense in his seat, his right ankle resting just above his left knee, his fingers drumming on the armrest in nervous anticipation. On the flip side, Sherlock was as still as stone next John, his eyes staring straight ahead. Although it was clear to John that Sherlock was once again in his “mind palace” and was far away from the oppressive silence of the car. Which just left John, fidgeting in his seat and staring out the window.

That Gwaine bloke had claimed he was going to drive a different vehicle and John could see him now, driving alongside the car in the next lane. He was on a motorcycle, a sleek vehicle of chrome and metal. He had a straight black helmet with dark tinted eyeglass and a black leather jacket to boot, a real tough guy look which, judging from what John had seen, complimented his brash attitude and lack of love for authority.

As John watched him through the window, Gwaine turned his head toward him and gave him a slight nod, probably a hidden smirk too, before he accelerated slightly and disappeared around the front of the car. John simply followed him with his eyes until he disappeared.

It was a relief when the car pulled over and everyone was able to escape the oppressive silence of the vehicle. They were just walking up (well, mostly everyone was pretty much jogging at this rate) toward the front courtyard, Gwaine having joined them from wherever he had parked his motorcycle, when Arthur froze suddenly, almost causing Leon to run into him.

“Arthur?” John inquired as everyone froze to look at Arthur, who was still staring down the street.

All of a sudden, Arthur took off running, almost knocking over a few people as he barreled down the street. “Arthur!” Leon protested, taking off after him. John stared after them for just a second until he realized that Sherlock was suddenly running in an alternate direction. “Sherlock!” John called, glancing helplessly to Gwaine who looked at him, shrugged, and took off after Arthur and Leon. John sighed, glanced once more after Arthur, Leon, and Gwaine, before taking off after Sherlock.

What they all missed was an auburn man, standing in the shadow of a building down the street in the opposite direction. They also missed him reach up and pull the auburn wig off to reveal a shock of black hair, an evil smirk upon his lips. He turned and disappeared down the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the delay! I’ll get the next chapter up when I get to it!
> 
> Gwaine’s motorcycle [here](http://pictures.topspeed.com/IMG/crop/201210/2013-star-motorcycle-raid-19_600x0w.jpg)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. SO. I AM THE WORST UPDATER EVER. Honestly. It’s been at least half a year. I know. But I have major writers block with this story. LIKE MAJOR. And yeah.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own either Merlin or Sherlock.
> 
> Warning: Merthur slash, maybe Johnlock later on (I dunno about Johnlock now that I’m thinking about it…)

THIS IS REALLY IMPORTANT TO THIS STORY. PLEASE READ: If you want this story to continue, I really need some plot help. I am American. I know next to nothing about London. If you could provide a place and a clue to the place where you would like the gang to visit in the “scavenger hunt” it would be most appreciated and help my writers block.

“SHERLOCK!” John huffed, straining to keep up. “Where are you bloody GOING!” As usual, Sherlock paid him no heed though as he turned abruptly down a narrow alley, barely slowing down at all. John was fit, sure, but he definitely did not have the same advantage that Sherlock’s long legs seemed to provide. Meaning John was struggling to keep up.

“Don’t distract me John,” Sherlock shouted back. He paused for just a moment at an intersection before taking off again. He dodged down an alley, whipped around a corner, and momentarily disappeared from John’s sight. John shook his head, exasperated, and he pushed himself a little harder in order to try and keep Sherlock in his sights.

Sherlock turned a few more corners, which caused John just to role his eyes and huff in annoyance, before they both broke out into the light of the open street. Sherlock stopped suddenly, whipping around to the right. John similarly startled to a stop, watching Sherlock suddenly stick his foot out, tripping up a black haired man who hit the ground hard.

Everything made sense when John noticed Arthur running up to them, Leon and Gwaine close behind. The black haired man? John whipped around to where Sherlock was crouching threateningly over the man he had just tripped up. Arthur, Leon, and Gwaine breathed heavily as they reached a stop next to John and Sherlock.

John leaned closer to see the man on the ground only to find…. MORIARTY?

“Oh. Don’t be ridiculous. This level of farce,” Sherlock scoffed angrily, reacting to the simultaneous gasps of surprise. Sherlock reached down and pulled on Moriarty’s face? No not his face apparently. A LATEX MASK. The latex pulled away in strands to reveal someone who was definitely NOT Moriarty.

“Don’t hurt me!” The man cried. His arms flew up to cover his head. His voice was high, squealish, and young. Further cementing his identity as NOT Moriarty.

“Don’t be daft you fool,” Sherlock growled, grabbing on to the front of the man’s clothes and pulling him upward to his feet. The man looked ready to run again but when he turned around to attempt, he almost ran straight into Gwaine, whom had circled around without anyone noticing. Gwaine cocked an eyebrow in challenge, crossing his arms.

“What is going on!?” Arthur demanded. Clearly looking perturbed that the man he had chased down, whom he thought to be Moriarty, turned out to be fake.

“It was a trick. A trick you fell for!” Sherlock snarled, arms crossed defiantly, glaring at Arthur. Arthur just glared back while everyone looked on warily.

“Um hey. So I just will um. You know. Get out of here. Kay?” The man fumbled, inching backwards even though he knew that Gwaine was still blocking his exit.

Both Sherlock and Arthur’s glares just seemed to focus on the man, finding a common ground for their anger.

“And YOU!” Arthur stepped toward the man threateningly. “Are you in league with Moriarty!?”

“Whoa man!” The man protested. Still fumbling backwards, his hands raised in front of him in surrender. “I don’t know any Moriarty! I just got approached by some guy. It was just for some money!”

“And?” Sherlock’s gaze narrowed on the man, evaluating him. “Did the man tell you to tell us anything?”

“Um?” The man floundered, his eyes looking skyward as he combed his memory. “He uh…OH!” The man pulled something out of his pocket the size and shape of a business card. “He told me I would know what to do with it?”

Sherlock ripped it from his hands, his eyes devouring the paper. “Get rid of him. He is not needed.” Sherlock waved vaguely in the direction of the man, his eyes never leaving the clue.  
Gwaine stepped back slightly, his posture still aggressive. “Get lost.” Gwaine’s voice was calm but the quick jerk of his head and his expression said otherwise.

The man took off running immediately, hardly looking back as he tore down the street to freedom. John watched him go before turning back to Sherlock.

“What does it say Sherlock?” John questioned before Arthur could butt in and aggravate the situation.

“I’m having a whale of a time. How about you? I did tell you to brush up on your history. M.” Sherlock read, his voice flat, flipping over the card questioningly in his hands.

“And what is that supposed to be a clue to?” Arthur ground his teeth together, looking put off. Sherlock stared off into the distance, the card still turning anxiously through his hands.

“History. Something to do with history. And a whale maybe?” Sherlock muttered, trying to put the clues together. “John!” Sherlock whirled to face him. John’s eyebrows rose, looking curious. “Name the first place you think of when I say history.”

“Uh.” John blinked. “The Natural History Museum?” Sherlock’s eyes lit up.

“Wonderful John. Brilliant. Yes.” Sherlock’s hands clasped together in childish glee.

“The Natural History Museum? That’s where you think the next clue leads to?” Arthur asked, incredulous. “What does that have anything to do with whales?”

“Honestly. Do you people never think?” Sherlock scoffed. Arthur bristled at the comment. “The main hall of the Natural History Museum, while now called the Large Mammals Hall, used to be known as the New Whale Hall. Hence. Whales.”

“Well. What are we waiting for then?” Leon spoke up quickly from where he’d silently been watching the situation behind Arthur. “To the museum?”

“Indeed.” Arthur’s voice was tightly controlled, his glare still leveled on Sherlock. “Let’s not waste more time.” Arthur whipped around dramatically and stalked off, back in the direction of the cars.

“Um Sherlock?” John asked when Sherlock made no move to follow. “They are our way to the museum.”  
Sherlock sighed dramatically, rubbing his brow with one hand in annoyance.

“Let us go Watson.” Sherlock stomped after Arthur. John followed loyally.

Still, as they walked down the street, John could not stop feeling as if someone was watching them. He gave a shudder at the thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS FOR YOUR PATIENCE WITH ME. The Fallen or Sacrilege will be the next to be updated.

**Author's Note:**

> That’s it. Read and Review. Constructive criticism welcome. Heck, Flames are welcome to, I’ll just read it and make my own decision.


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